


Fade

by drinkingstars



Series: Clarity [2]
Category: Actor RPF, Canadian Actor RPF, Schitt's Creek (TV) RPF, Schitt’s Creek RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, M/M, Multi, Polyamory Negotiations, Recreational Drug Use, Sort Of, lots of partying but everyone is ok, mention of vomiting nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 12:39:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19701547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drinkingstars/pseuds/drinkingstars
Summary: I mean...you wanna blow your life up like that? That’s a wild way to do it.





	Fade

**Author's Note:**

> I know virtually nothing about Clare, again, I've made all this up. Dan is not a gold star gay. If you've read this far you're probably ok with that.

The Raptors do not, in fact, finish it off in five. It takes until the sixth game, which they do win, inconveniently the night before Dan and Noah have a morning flight to Los Angeles. Dan has never cared about a sport before, and he isn’t well prepared for the emotional intensity. He asks Clare too many questions and makes up new rules and bizarre superstitions when he doesn’t understand the answers. When it’s actually over Noah clutches Dan’s hand while they scream for dear life. 

Then they spill out into the streets with the rest of their city. 

It’s loud and relentless and they just keep walking, high fiving anyone and everyone and pounding beers they grab from strangers. At midnight Dan says, “if we’re home by one we can still get five hours of sleep,” and they keep walking. 

At 1:38 a random dinosaur lifts Clare over his head in a cheerleading pose and Noah snaps a photo on his phone. He glances at the time and says, “well if we get home by two we can get like four hours of sleep,” and Dan nods, like that’s perfectly fine.

At two Dan says, “as long as I can lay my head down for a few hours I’ll be ok.” Clare cracks open a hard cider someone tossed her from an open window, chugs half of it and passes it to them.

At 4:12, Noah says “I guess we can sleep on the plane.”

Dan hates sleeping on planes. He usually can’t do it, and definitely not without chemical assistance, because it’s impossible to imagine sleeping on a sealed box that is hurtling through the sky. He has to try though, because he feels like absolute hell when a car picks them up at 6:24 in the morning. Half the people on board their flight look like they should be in the hospital, not on a plane or out in the real world. 

The flight attendant offers champagne (“so everyone can keep celebrating!”) shortly after takeoff and Dan looks over at Noah. He’s wearing a sleep mask and headphones, and he’s out cold. Dan swears under his breath, and accepts a glass of champagne to swallow a pill.

The next thing he knows they’re descending. Dan starts trying to wake Noah up before they even land, but the process takes a little time. Noah wakes up groggy and cranky, and Dan waits for him to rub his face and chug a small bottle of water the flight attendant placed next to him before he attempts asking him any questions.

“Where’d they book you guys?” Dan finally asks, softly, and his throat feels dry and scratchy. Great, he thinks, getting sick right now is just what he needs.

“I dunno...hang on,” Noah grumbles, reaching for his bag to turn on his phone. “Aren’t you going to your place?”

Dan shrugs and rolls his shoulders, trying to loosen his stiff neck and not make a bigger deal out of this than necessary. “I have some meetings this afternoon. They’re over here. Can I just crash?”

Noah doesn’t look at him, just studies his phone, squinting at the tiny screen as it powers on and he flips through emails. “Loew’s? And yes of course you can. Thought you’d want to go home, since you’re here.” Noah turns in his direction and Dan just stares past him and out the airplane window.

“Yeah, I thought I would too.”

*

The hotel room is beautiful, overlooking the Pacific Ocean, and has every amenity a person could want. They don’t care about any of it, though Dan does open the French doors and let the ocean breeze billow the curtains and fill the room while Noah takes a shower. He comes out a few minutes later in pajama pants, says “all yours,” and passes out on top of the duvet.

Dan sits by the window for a few more minutes, listening to the waves, the sound of Noah’s steady, congested breathing, and goes to take a shower himself. He didn’t pack pajamas because he thought he was going home, so he puts on fresh boxers, drinks four glasses of water, sets an alarm, and passes out beside Noah in less than a minute.

He sleeps through the phone alert and barely wakes up in time. Noah sits up while Dan’s getting dressed, and looks around at Dan, at the room, confused. “You’re in Los Angeles,” Dan explains, pulling on some dress sneakers. 

“Oh. Right.” Noah shakes his head, then sets his feet on the floor. “You’re really going to a meeting right now?” He asks, looking vaguely queasy and unsettled.

“I have to. I would cancel it if I could, but I would be a _major_ dick.” Dan stands, pats his pockets for his phone and wallet. 

“Mmmkay. Uh, take a...did you get a room key?”

“Yeah, I’ll grab one when I go. Get some more rest. I’ll be ok,” Dan says, but he’s not sure he believes that himself.

Noah yawns and nods, but gets up to go to the bathroom first. “Dinner, maybe? When you get back?” The bathroom door softly swishes shut behind him.

Dan picks up the little paper envelope and pulls one of the keycards out, slips it in his pocket. “That sounds great.”

Dan just makes it to his meeting on time, and only feels like a _minor_ dick when he asks someone’s assistant to get him a BLT and a latte.

*

He has a ton of texts to catch up on by the time he’s done, but the top one from Noah just says _going to lay by the waaaaaves._ Dan gets dropped off back at the hotel and takes the winding little sidewalk path through the buildings to find Noah on a deck chair between the pool and the sand. There’s a paperback book and two bottles of Pedialyte on the table next to him, one empty.

“Postmates?” Dan asks, slumping down in the chair next to him.

“Yep,” Noah says, smiling up at him and shading his eyes in the late afternoon sun.

“Brilliant.” Dan says, pushing his sunglasses up on his nose and looking out over the ocean. He likes LA. He feels like a slightly different version of himself here, but one he knows well and he thinks suits him. He’s on the entire other side of the city from his home though, and while he appreciates the beach in a symbolic, narrative way, this isn’t his part of town.

“How was the meeting?” Noah asks, stretching his arms over his head and rolling his neck out.

“Eh, a lot like the last one. Everybody loves me, apparently!” Dan says, falsely bright and grinning through his teeth. “But nobody wants to be the first to hop in bed with me.”

“Their loss,” Noah says lightly, resting his chin on his chest.

Dan shrugs. “It’s just business. I’ve got more meetings and more time. All the time. So what do you want to do? Dinner in a little while? We have some party invites…” Dan trails off, thumbing through his phone.

Noah picks up his second bottle of Pedialyte and cracks it open, takes a few swigs and gives Dan a slow, lazy smile. “I could do a small, sophisticated soiree.”

*

They get dinner with Annie and Dustin, and let them choose a party to put in an appearance, since they _are_ nominees, after all. It’s loud, and everything is shiny, and they’re probably the most boring people there. Annie is the only one who can stomach the sweet custom cocktails, and Dan switches to seltzer water after one glass of prosecco. 

He sits next to Noah on a cobalt blue velvet sofa so close their knees keep bumping when Dan laughs or Noah tells a story, and every time he glances up, Dustin is looking at him, curiously. Dan squints one eye and makes a sideways face back at him, just to test it, and Dustin sits back, nods and strokes his beard.

They make it to the wild and reckless hour of 10:15pm before they realize they’ve had plenty of party time, and decide to call it a night despite the others mocking them. Dan says he’ll call a car, and Noah and Annie head to the bathroom together, giggling about something.

Dustin flicks his chin up at Dan, motioning him over to talk, then changes his mind and hops up to sit next to him on the couch instead.

“You doing something stupid?” Dustin purses his lips and strokes his beard again, like he’s deep in thought.

“What? Why? What?” Dan gawks at him, confused.

“You and your buddy there. You’re staying in his hotel room...why?”

“Oh...I just. We were out all night and we were hungover as hell and it was just easier...wait why are you asking me this?”

“Love you. Love you a long time.” Dustin points aggressively toward the twinkling palm tree lit walkway where Noah and Annie have just disappeared. “That kid - ”

“He’s literally your age.”

Dustin sits back on the couch, holds his palms up dramatically like he’s just turned over the winning hand in a spy movie. “He’s got it bad.” 

“What...I think you might, um...no I don’t think that’s quite it. Can I say that?”

“You can say whatever you want. Doesn’t make it truer. _And_ he’s engaged. _And_ you’re friends with both of them. I mean...you wanna blow your life up like that? That’s a wild way to do it.”

“All I did was take a nap at his hotel, how am I getting this...very weird lecture. From you and your...beard. Is it like full of wisdom, is that it?”

“So you’re going home to your house then?” Dustin stops him dead in his tracks, and he’s rarely, rarely seen Dustin this serious.

“Um, I hadn’t planned...well my stuff is at - “

“Uh huh so you’re going to sleep with him then.”

“Oh my god, keep your voice…I’m not. We’ve been. Really close. Once. And then we weren’t, for a long time. And now we’re...figuring out how to be. Closer. Again. But not as close? Fuck you this is totally fucked isn’t it.”

“Yep.” Dustin says, taking Dan’s tall soda glass out of his hand and helping himself to a long sip. 

“I kind of hate you right now,” Dan says looking over his shoulder to see if they’re coming back yet. Dustin puts his arm around him and squeezes him tight.

“You won’t always hate me. But you’ll always hate yourself if you bang that sweetie in a hotel in Santa Monica.”

“You’ve always had such an elegant way with words,” Dan says, standing up to go find Noah and get their car, a more complicated enterprise now.

Dustin hands Dan back the rest of his soda, crunching on some of his ice. “At least have the decency to bang him in Silverlake.”

“Nope, thank you, I’m...sufficiently shaken to the core. Please never talk about this to me again.”

“Go home, jerk off, get some beauty sleep, and practice your surprised face for the very surprising thing you’re surprised to be winning tomorrow,” Dustin says, hugging Dan goodbye. Dan nods into his beard.

“Thanks. I didn’t mean it when I made fun of the beard. I love the beard.”

“Awwwww, babe! Thanks! See, now me on the other hand, me you can bang in Santa Monica. We can go down to the pier, I’m not picky,” Dustin offers, pokes his tongue in the corner of his cheek.

“Good night Dustin.”

*

Dan extricates himself as cleanly as possible, saying that he wants to sleep in his own bed and air out his house. Noah doesn’t put up a fight, just hugs him kind of stiffly, and says “text me when you head over tomorrow,” rather flatly. Dan hates it. He gets back in the same car, the driver waiting for him outside for $10, and before he’s even crossed the 405 a text pops up from Clare.

_you fucking idiot_

_:)_

*

He doesn’t write Clare back until morning. A good night’s sleep on his own mattress in his own home, surrounded by his own smells and textures, has him feeling a sense of clarity. He goes to the corner bakery and loads up on pastries, coffee and orange juice, taking them back down the hill to his house and sitting on his patio to eat.

 _Dont know what u mean - doin g a good thing! I think. Talk back in TO?_

He taps out the text while peeling off layers of a kouign amann and popping them in his mouth. His thumb hovers over the send button while he chews, the sugary pastry flakes melting on his tongue. He hits send.

She writes back almost immediately.

_my bad. sry dan <3_

Clare of all people has nothing to apologize to him for. Dan flashes on the days he and Noah had spent talking about getting engaged, about what it meant for their characters. Noah confessing that it was making him think hard about things himself. How Dan had cried for them both when Noah told him he had decided he was going to propose to her. 

Dan was so happy, but he also ached. He loves them so much and truly, truly wants them to be happy. His heart aches now just thinking too hard about it.

_NP everything's fine! I’ll hug him for you this afternoon <3 _

Dan offers, a kind of bridge between what he thinks might be hurting Clare’s feelings and what he thinks is best for himself. He drinks some orange juice and looks around at his avocado trees and his pretty backyard and thinks about what Dustin said to him, about blowing up his life, about what making a bad decision at 35 looks like versus making one at 20. About what making a good decision looks like.

His phone lights up with another text.

_yes hug him but for urself_

*

They go to the thing, and they know they’re not going to win, but Dan wins and they knew that too and it’s fun, it’s really fun, fine. Stacey oversells the moment by a _mile_ and Dan loves her hard for it, will laugh at it even harder when he watches the video back. He gives his speech and talks about unconditional love, and though the lights are blindingly bright up there he can see Noah in the crowd beaming at him. His heart aches again and he doesn’t know what to do. He clutches his stupid gold popcorn bucket and he just doesn’t know.

They go out to parties and Dan trots his award around for a while until a talent wrangler type person asks him if he wants them to check it for him, assures him that it’ll be safe. “Good idea, thank you. It was interfering with my drinking,” he jokes. The talent assistant is apparently not a fan. He hands the thing off, then grabs Dustin by the arm and drags him to the bar.

“Need some more of this good stuff, eh?” Dustin leans on the bar and gives Dan a once over, absently touching his beard again. It’s neatly trimmed, soft and shiny from whatever the hair and grooming person put in it. Dan kind of wants to run his fingers through it.

“Can I run my fingers through your beard?” Dan yells over the music. A cute bartender smiles at him and starts pouring something from a gleaming gold cocktail shaker.

“It’s not gonna solve your problem, my dear, but sure knock yourself out,” Dustin preens, leaning in closer to Dan as the bartender slides them two sparkling gold drinks in plastic glasses. They look like real glasses, but they’re plastic, and have a handgrip molded into the side so you can hold onto it better when you’re wasted. Smart, for this crowd, Dan thinks. There’s glittering gold sugar crusted all over the rim.

“What fresh hell is this?” Dustin asks, eyeing the drinks warily. He doesn’t make a move to try one, but Dan is game, and lifts his to his lips for a tentative sip. 

It tastes like cinnamon, and orange peel, and bubbles. It’s kind of magical. He takes another sip, licks some of the sugar off his lip. “Ok. I’m ready to touch,” Dan says, setting down his drink, rubbing his hands together dramatically, and sinking all ten fingertips into Dustin’s beard.

“See, that’s just good, and reasonable, and I feel better for having done it. That’s a good beard,” Dan says, roughly scruffing his hands through it.

“I think it has healing properties,” Dustin agrees, letting his eyes close pleasurably. “Mmm...this is nice but why did you seek my beard wisdom. What’s happening in that head?”

“What if you’re wrong?” Dan answers quickly with a question, curling his fingers into the beard hairs and smoothing them back into place where he’s ruffled Dustin up. He picks up his drink again and tilts his head at Dustin.

“Has literally never happened before,” Dustin says with authority, then decides to brave it and picks up the other glass. He sniffs it, then takes a cautious sip. He swirls it in his mouth, then darts his eyes at Dan nervously. He takes another sip, then sets it down. “Ok. I was wrong about that drink. That drink is delicious. So as you can see, it is possible that I might be wrong about other things. But I’m probably not.”

“But you _could_ be. It could work out. It could...be fine.”

“How? How would that be fine? Draw me a diagram of the outcome of your scenario that is fine, Daniel.”

“I can’t draw,” Dan says with a bratty snip in his voice. He drinks some more of the drink but the fifth and sixth sips aren’t as good as the first.

“You’re going to do it anyway,” Dustin says, looking Dan squarely in the eye like the realization just came over him. “I knew he had it bad. I did not know you did too. But now that I’m looking, it’s kind of obvious.” Dustin’s mouth turns up at one corner, almost sadly.

“I didn’t know. Or I did but I didn’t. And I don’t know what to do.” Dan sets his golden glass down and pushes it away. He doesn’t need a sparkly, sugar-encrusted head right now. He needs to think. 

“What if we go make out? Just until you figure out...how not to do this.”

“An intriguing offer.” Dan strokes his thumb down Dustin’s beard, smoothes the last few stray hairs into place. “Maybe next time.”

Dustin hugs him and kisses him on the cheek, mumbles into his ear. “Remember what I told you.”

“Which part?” Dan says, turning away with his hands in his pockets.

Dustin shrugs. “I guess none of it.”

*

Dan finds Noah and the girls at a different corner of a different bar, with the same everything else. There’s gold glitter in Annie’s hair and they’ve definitely had a number of cocktails, judging by the small stack of shimmery, smeared glasses. Noah has gold sugar on his bottom lip. _Not_ helping.

“Where were you??” Annie and Stacey sing out and throw their arms around him. Noah smiles at him, slow and shy like from another time, and the corners of his eyes turn down slightly. 

Dan needs to separate him from here, get him alone, lick the gold off his lip and see how that goes. They’ll figure out the rest as it comes, he knows they will. They have to.

He has to trust literally everyone around him, at the same time. From Clare to Dustin to Annie to Stacey, thank god for Stacey. He pulls her close and twirls a strand of her long red hair around his fingers, kisses her on the head and whispers, “I need Noah for a bit.” And that’s all it takes. She nods, brushes a palm over his cheek, and snatches two more gold drinks off the bar, pressing one into Annie’s hand. “Come on babe, I need to dance with my girl!” She calls out and they are gone in a whirl.

Dan pushes his glasses up on his nose and Noah drags his toe again, that slow circle on the floor around Dan while he waits. Dan steps into his circle, looks slowly up from the floor to somewhere over Noah’s shoulder. He feels like he might not get through this after all, and Noah says it instead, quick and jarring. “Do you want to come back to my room tonight?”

Dan swallows, shifts his hands in his pockets and his weight from one foot to the other. He drags his eyes up Noah’s shoulder, down the line of his jaw, over his mouth and up to meet his gaze. “No. I can’t do that.” Noah lowers his lashes, deflating for only the space of a breath, the sharp inhale Dan needs to take before he manages to finish. “I’m going home to my house. I think you should come with me.”

*

It takes a bit of logistics, a car and Noah changing his clothes and leaving his outfit for his stylist to pick up at the front desk, and another car. Dan almost forgets to pick up his award. On the ride he’s jittery and doesn’t say much, jiggles his leg and foot with nerves because Noah is focused on his phone and Dan knows he’s texting with Clare. He’s too chicken to look at his own messages. Somewhere around Culver City Noah puts his phone away, puts his hand on Dan’s knee to still his fidgeting. He keeps it there the rest of the trip.

Traffic through Downtown sucks and it feels like an eternity, way too much time for Dan’s brain to run itself in circles, awfulizing every choice he’s ever made up to and including this car ride. He’s changed his mind a dozen times and completely disassociated from himself by the time he’s putting his key into the lock on his front door, watching as if from outside his body as Noah wheels his suitcase into his foyer. 

_Noah is in his house_ his brain screams at him and he wills it to shut up, turning on lights and locking the door behind him, setting his award down on the table. He takes off his expensive jacket and hangs it over a dining room chair, then hesitates, halfway between the bar, stocked with good Canadian whiskey and proper drinks in the living room and the better idea, filtered water in the kitchen. 

Noah just stops him where he is, takes him by the wrist and pulls, pulls until Dan is in his arms, and just holds him there. 

Dan leans in, wraps his arms around him, rubs his broad hands over Noah’s back, down to his waist until he feels Noah turning his face inward, feels Noah’s lips at his neck, that spot he found on his own years ago and seems to keep finding no matter what. Noah’s kissing his neck, and Noah’s rubbing his hands down the sides of Dan’s ribs, pulling the tails of his shirt out of his belted pants so he can slide his hands underneath, wrap them around him and touch Dan’s skin for real, for real. 

Dan turns his head just an inch or so and maybe he’s about to say something, but he can’t be sure what, because Noah’s there, kissing him, and he doesn’t stop for anything. 

Dan opens up for him, lets Noah take his mouth, bite his lips, kiss his jaw and his chin and his cheeks. He licks that spot on Noah’s mouth where he saw the gold glitter, just in case it was still there. 

His hands move up Noah’s waist, delicately lift the soft t-shirt Noah changed into when he left, finally find his warm skin, the dip in the small of his back. He pulls him close and kisses him like it’s the first time, finding something new, something just for them in every press of their lips, in the way Noah runs his tongue along the crevices of his mouth and digs his fingers into his skin. 

They kiss there, in Dan’s hallway, not moving or rushing or wanting anything but that right now, until Dan has to take a deep breath, maybe the deepest breath he’s taken all year. He sighs it out against Noah’s mouth, every muscle and nerve in his body unwinding in Noah’s hands. Noah laughs softly as he kisses him, rubs his hands in soothing circles on Dan’s back, up and down the ridges of his spine. He pulls Dan’s bottom lip between his teeth, then lets go with a nip. “Better?” He asks, kisses Dan under his ear.

Dan moves one hand up, out of Noah’s shirt, wraps it around the back of Noah’s neck, rubbing his fingertips into the short, wavy hair there. “So much better.”

*

They decide to move to the couch. Dan’s living room is his favorite part of the house, and it feels...proper, somehow. As if anything about this is. 

He takes his glasses off and changes into lounging clothes, soft pajama pants and a cozy sweatshirt from Japan, and walks back out to consider the sight of Noah in his home, of what this looks like, what this could look like. Noah on his sofa, Noah with his feet tucked up under the edge of his blanket. Noah in his bed, maybe. 

He shakes that idea from his head. 

Dan sinks onto the couch and Noah opens his arms, makes room for Dan to lay half on his chest and shoulder. He brings two fingertips to touch under Dan’s chin and angle his mouth up for a kiss. It’s a dainty move, one he probably uses on Clare. It makes Dan anxious. He squirms to sit up a little, puts his own hand on Noah’s face, his thumb on his jaw, and looks him in the eye before he kisses him again, harder this time. 

Noah gives it right back, shifts his weight forward and close up against Dan, connecting with teeth and thighs, his hand dipping behind Dan’s knee to pull it up and around him. It’s a little rough and Dan likes it, can suddenly imagine much, much more. Things they sort of got around to a couple years back on those few, fumbling, tipsy encounters, and things they definitely didn’t. He wants to feel Noah on top of him. He wants Noah’s fingers in his mouth. He has to stop. 

“What the fuck are we doing?” He breathes out mid-kiss, pulling away completely and putting some space, just a little, in between them. Noah sits back too, licks his lip where Dan thinks he just bit it, rubs his hand over the back of his head.

“What I thought we wanted,” Noah says, his voice catching in his throat.

“I do...I do want. I’m just...it feels like we’re. That felt like too much, without talking through...fuck, everything.” Dan puts his words together carefully. He closes his eyes and breathes through the very faint edges of panic he felt just a moment ago. Then he feels Noah’s hand on his knee, rubbing slow circles over the bone. He reaches to put his hand over Noah’s without opening his eyes, weaves their fingers together.

“We can talk tonight. We can’t make any big decisions, obviously. We can talk, properly, all of us, when we get back.” Noah tries laying it out sensibly but it only ends up making Dan feel weirder. 

“I mean, what does she think is happening right now? Does she think you came over to my house when you had your own hotel room, just to talk?”

“No, she assumes we’re going to fuck,” Noah says, perhaps a bit too brightly. Dan tilts his head in disbelief.

“Ok, so you guys talked and she gave you permission to come fuck me, because she thinks it’ll get me out of your system? Something like that?” Dan feels mean for saying it and snaps his mouth shut immediately. Noah just looks at him, even-keeled as always.

“I don’t think she wants you out of my system at all,” Noah says. “She wants...she wants everyone to be happy and loved, properly, by the people that love them. I don’t know how else to put it.”

Dan’s heart clenches at that answer, as generous as it sounds. As much as he loves and wants Noah he doesn’t understand how that could ever be enough to make this work.

“You know that sounds insane.”

“It does. I am well aware it does,” Noah agrees, tipping his head back against the couch. They’re so tired.

“Did Clare really say _fuck_? Like, she went for that word?”

“No I think I said ‘fuck.’ Sorry, it was kind of...hyperbole? Or just very dramatic.”

“Dustin said ‘bang’.” Dan says, cringing and putting his head in his hand.

“Wait, Dustin knows?” Noah looks shocked and Dan just has to laugh.

“Oh, apparently we’re super obvious, once you notice it. According to Dustin. I don’t know. Probably everyone knows. Who knows. Do you want to go to bed with me? I’m fucking exhausted.”

Noah smiles. “I would like that very much. And maybe a little more kissing.”

Dan stands up and holds out his hand. “Oh, duh. I’m not made of stone.”

*

The sun shining through his curtains actually wakes him up before the warm body pressed against him does. It takes Dan’s brain a minute to catch up. 

He’s in his own house. He made out with Noah in his own bed until they got too sleepy to keep going. Now it’s morning, and Noah is breathing heavily behind him, hips up against his hips and one arm slung across him. His brain tries to ruin it, reminds him not to get too comfortable. He’s already comfortable.

He stretches his arms and legs, tries to rotate his ankles and pop his neck without disturbing Noah, but Noah kind of rouses with the movements, starts to sleepily kiss Dan’s shoulder, then move his hand down Dan’s hip. 

It’s nice to have someone cuddle him, he thinks. An innocent, comforting touch. Dan has slept with enough men that he should know better.

Noah pulls on Dan’s hip until he can get close enough, kissing down the back of Dan’s neck and Dan can feel him hard behind him. He reaches back for Noah’s head, his face, pulls him closer until they can roughly brush their lips together and Dan can turn over. It’s a fast untangling of limbs and rough-mouthed kisses on dry lips and stubbled jaws until they slot themselves together and they’re both very obviously hard. 

It’s an easy decision to quickly establish that they actually already did _this_ once or twice, so it’s fine to do it again now. Their hands in each other’s pajama pants feel so easy, natural, a few slick twists of the wrist and Noah comes in Dan’s hand, lays his head down on Dan’s chest and watches Dan come in his. 

Noah sighs on him, turns his face back and forth a few times, lightly tickling Dan’s chest hair with his cheek. “Better?” He mumbles, then bites a wet, open mouthed kiss into Dan’s pectoral muscle.

Dan draws his clean hand up and down Noah’s back, feeling every little mole and bump and tracing patterns between them. “Fuck. Better.”

They take turns showering, with only a minor detour to kiss against the bathroom sink while Dan is shaving, a gay magazine razor ad cliche Dan probably would have relished in his teens. They finish off the orange juice and pastries and put a few glasses and coffee cups in the dishwasher. Then it’s time to lock up his house and go.

*

Noah doesn’t have any scenes to film on Monday, so he and Clare go to the victory parade. Dan and everyone else have plenty of work the next four days. He’s melancholy, but he’s very busy, so he just puts his head down and makes himself even more busy. His dad asks him a few times if he’s doing ok, says that he seems a little _farblunget_ and Dan laughs him off, shakes his head and says “gesundheit,” their oldest and goofiest Levy family joke. He remembers to google that one later, and his dad’s not _wrong_ , exactly. 

It’s not until the middle of the week that he realizes this is the only Friday left to have a wrap party. Luckily, he has hired the very best people, and the production staff already has everything arranged. It’s the solstice, and it feels harmonious, sun shining late in the evening and charged with good energy. He has champagne and a tiny sliver of a pill at his place with Salvatore, just a little something to keep things from turning maudlin. Then he heads out into the luminous sunset to be with his people and get absolutely steamrolled by his feelings.

There are so many people, and so many hugs, and so many drinks and maybe another little piece of a pill he splits three ways with Dustin and Clare. Noah ducks out back with Annie and the not so secret smokers multiple times and comes back glassy-eyed, thirsty and clingy. 

Dan has another glass of champagne and a good, cathartic cry with Jenn, as promised. He keeps the drinking slow at first. He just wants to feel it all, so many beautiful things to _feel_ and he doesn’t want to dull them. He’s full of love, and a tiny amount of drugs, and surrounded by everyone that matters the most in the world to him. 

And when everything is this perfect, the only thing to do is sing _Freedom 90_. 

His friends all sing it with him, and they sound amazing and George Michael was fucking amazing god damn it, and he doesn’t even take note of who doesn’t know the words but just claps along instead. He does _always_ forget how long _Freedom 90_ is when you’re performing it, god bless George and every precious genius bar of it. He’s out of breath and parched by the time they’re done. 

Noah and Clare are right there with a beer and a shot, and well. So it goes.

*

Noah is... _faded_ , Dan thinks the kids say. He keeps saying he’s going to get up and sing, then forgetting and trying to give Dan another shot and telling him he loves him. But then something must click in his wasted brain and Noah is suddenly on his feet and a couple of people are helping him with the computer to put in his chosen song.

Clare brushes the back of her hand against Dan’s neck so she can whisper-yell in his ear, “you’re not ready.”

“I’m sure I’m not,” Dan yells back, eyes flashing around the room to take it all in. 

“No like you’re really not,” she says, lets her head roll against his shoulder and he puts his arm around her, feels them both tense and cringe when Noah starts climbing up on the banquette. They dissolve in giggles, and Clare just shakes her head back and forth on Dan, laughing, “I’m so sorry. I really tried…”

Someone throws Noah the mic and as the softly electronicized chords of the song pour out, he waves his arm wildly and points everyone’s attention at Dan, as if there was any doubt who this was for, and Dan knows immediately Clare was right. 

He isn't ready. 

“Oh god,” Dan bites his lip and Clare pushes up off of him to sway back and forth to the song. Noah is doing his drunken best but it’s a mess and he keeps turning to Dan and crooning right to him _Daniel you’re a star_ and Dan bites down on his cheek to try to stop from smiling so hard. 

He just looks up at him, shakes his head softly in awe, the colored disco lights swirling soft patterns around them both. He loves him so much.

He turns and looks at his friends around the room, some of them joining in on the choruses regardless of how entirely inappropriate a drunken karaoke serenade this is, and finally catches Dustin’s eye across the other side of the banquette. Dustin turns his hands over again, palms up in a shrug. Like he’s folding this hand. Dan smiles out of one corner of his mouth and watches Dustin curl his hands to touch fingers and thumbs in the center, and form a heart.

He and Clare pull Noah down off his feet when he’s finally done and smother him, Dan taking liberties with the cover of Clare’s presence to kiss Noah briefly on the lips, the jaw and ear, feels Noah’s arm tighten around his waist. “Love you,” Noah whispers roughly, and Dan wonders how much of this he’ll remember in the morning. Noah clears his throat and turns to kiss Clare, Dan still hugging him around the shoulders. 

They all get in on the next round of shots.

*

Dan wakes up to a beam of grey light angling at him from an unfamiliar direction. He is facing a door, and a dresser, but they’re in the wrong place. He turns quickly and sits up with a start, sees Noah beside him, shirtless, pale, breathing heavy with congestion like he usually is. On the other side is Clare, in what looks like her Raptors tank top. Dan rubs his eyes and slowly lies back down, then gingerly lifts the covers up a few inches and cautiously peeks down at their bodies underneath. 

They all have pants or shorts on. So there’s that. He holds the covers carefully up and rolls off the bed, then suddenly gasps and smacks himself in the head. Clare sits up out of a dead sleep, alarmed. “What’s wrong what’s wrong?”

“Redmond, oh my god, how did I…” Dan starts to mildly panic, looking for his phone on the floor but Clare climbs right over Noah and grabs him by the arm. 

“Hey, hey, breathe...your sister went to get Red and took him home with her. He’s fine, sweetie.” Dan sits back on the edge of the bed and puts his head in his hands, not entirely sure he’s not going to get sick. Clare puts a careful hand on his back and rubs a gentle circle, like Noah has done many times. Dan feels dizzy. 

“Ok. I’m ok. Thank you. I just...didn’t know where I was for a minute.”

“You’re right here. You’re ok. Let’s go find water and advil, eh?” Clare says, gently and sensibly, still rubbing his back. “He’ll be out for a while still.”

They make their way slowly out of bed. Clare and Noah have a functional, adult apartment, and have spare toothbrushes, advil and aspirin, even clean, carefully folded guest towels. 

Clare cuts a plain bagel neatly in half and toasts it, and brews a weak pot of tea while Dan brushes and washes, tries to make himself feel human again. He eats a few bites of the bagel, slowly sips the tea, and prays for the advil to start working. 

Clare brings her bagel on a little plate with her tea and goes to the couch, motions for Dan to follow her. He tucks himself comfortably on one end and lets her throw a blanket over both of them, and closes his eyes for a moment to try to let his head unwind. His feet curl against Clare’s thigh and she puts her hand over the blanket, gently squeezes the arch of his foot. It feels nice, and he relaxes into it, sighs sort of miserably as she kneads her thumb there.

“Wait do you not like your feet touched? Sorry, Noah loves - ”

“No I like it. You can. I’m just...confused. And wallowing in self-pity. And maybe a low grade shame spiral.”

Clare leans forward to put her cup of tea down and sits back, pats her lap for Dan to stretch his legs out onto.

“Do you want to talk about...uh, all of it?”

Dan scrunches up his face and throws his hand dramatically over his eyes. “God. Where do we even…” He hesitates, chews on his lip, then peeks one eye between his fingers. “We fooled around. The other day in LA. I don’t know if he told you,” Dan says, feeling queasy again. 

Clare looks at him, her forehead kind of furrowed and her eyes bleary. “Yeah and? You fooled around last night, too.”

Dan’s eyes open wide and whatever small relief from his tension headache he had started to feel is gone, his head blaring back again at him. “Wait, what? I don’t remember…” But then he thinks and he kind of vaguely does, remembers Noah pushing him down to sit on the edge of his bed, remembers Noah crowding up against him and his hands on Noah’s hips. Noah on his thighs, and biting his neck, and then...not much.

“You guys were kind of hammered,” Clare says, her voice raspy. “I mean I was too but. Noah was like, _this is so good_ and _let’s do this_ , and kissing us both, and then he passed out with his hand in your pants.” 

“Oh my god,” Dan covers his face and he might legitimately die of shame, but Clare doesn’t let him follow that downward spiral. She squeezes his foot again.

“Hey. Don’t do that. It’s...it was not an ideal start, but we’re going to figure it out.”

“Wait,” Dan says suddenly, gestures between the two of them. “Did we…?”

Clare snorts a laugh and shakes her head. “No, sweetie. You kept petting my hair and telling me I was pretty, though.”

Dan keeps his hand on his forehead, shading his eyes from the world and rubbing his temples at the same time. “Jesus christ, I’m a fucking cliche.”

“Have you…” Clare starts to say, then leans forward to get her tea. She sips it and kind of mumbles into her cup instead. “You been with a woman? Have you? Sorry that’s really nosy, I’m sorry, forget I said that.” She shakes her head and turns her focus back on her tea in the most Canadian way.

Dan thinks a minute what he wants to say. “I’ve kissed girls. I guess? Yes, I would say I’ve kissed a woman.”

“I don’t mean like, drunk frenching your gal pals at the club,” Clare qualifies, and Dan makes a face.

“No, not that. I’m not a gold star gay, I guess. And I _hate_ that expression, but anyway I’m not, because I have kissed a woman, yes.”

“Have you had _sex_ with a woman?” Clare jumps to ask, obviously escalating in curiosity and her eyebrows and voice go up really high.

“Why, Clare, do you want to have sex with me?” Dan grins somewhat incredulously, because it seems like the fastest way to cut to what they’re really talking about here.

Clare squints and kind of scrutinizes Dan for a minute and then just cracks up. “Oh god. I love you, but not particularly?” Clare blurts out, shaking her head and holding onto Dan’s ankle like it’s steadying her.

Dan is a mess of nerves and hangover and so, so relieved they are both laughing through this. “I don’t want to have sex with you either, sorry. At least we’ve established that, like, one thing.” He tilts his head at her and reaches to have another sip of his tea, nudges her thigh with his toes. “You are, like, really pretty though.”

She laughs and shoves his feet off of her. “Oh my god, shut up, Daniel.” They’re both quiet for a moment, just looking at each other. “So then, like…”

“What do we do?” Dan finishes her thought. She sighs heavily and nods, like she’s mulling it over. Dan starts again. “I guess we just...set some boundaries, which we already kind of did, and check in with each other that we’re all ok? And that everyone feels…”

“Attended to?” Clare suggests.

“Yes. Good. And no one feels left out. But - ” Dan has to stop himself, because he’s already hitting the crux of the problem. He already feels left out. He’s the third, and they are engaged and getting married. He’s on the outside of that, no matter what, and he has to really ask himself how he feels about that, long term. 

Clare reaches out and touches his arm.

“Hey, where’d you go?” She’s so gentle, and cares so much it’s overwhelming, and he feels like crying almost instantly.

“I’m setting myself up to get hurt so fucking bad,” he says, looking down at her engagement ring and saying the most painful thing he can think of, open, honest. It’s out there, and he swallows that feeling down.

Clare nods, reaches to play with her ponytail nervously. “Honestly? We all are. But I don’t know any other way to...I can’t keep him from loving you, Dan. And I wouldn’t want to if I could. I mean you guys are…” She pauses, looks around the apartment for her word, and there are tears shining in her eyes too. “That’s like, lifetime love. And we are too, for whatever that means, whatever marriage means, or will mean to us.” Her voice is still raspy from partying, or maybe she’s getting overwhelmed talking about this. “Sometimes I wonder about the chronology of things. And if we were the ones that lost touch or moved on, and he found you again, single...would you be the one with the ring? And I don’t mean that, like…” 

Clare gets frustrated like she can’t figure out what she’s trying to say, but Dan thinks he gets it. She’s not a jealous person. She’s the opposite. It’s all just how the universe happened to deal them out to each other, this time.

“I thought I found him again at just the right time,” Dan says, carefully. “But then I didn’t know it was going to be like this. It’s not what I would have asked for, honestly.” He looks up at the ceiling as a tear threatens to escape and roll down his cheek.

Clare reaches up to wipe it away with her thumb. “Obviously. But it’s what we get to have. So. Lucky us,” she says with a shrug of her shoulders, and Dan has to stop and smile, in spite of himself. 

He leans in and kisses her softly, just on the corner of the mouth, feels her smile and kiss his cheek. They laugh at each other as they pull back.

“We probably will have to get better about that?” Dan says, mouth still curling in a laugh at one side.

“Uh yeah. Yeah we’ll have to...work on that. Come on, let’s go make sure he’s like, breathing.” Clare peels herself off the couch, holds out her hand to help Dan up.

“Oh, he’s breathing, I can hear his snoring from here,” Dan says, takes her hand in his.

*

Clare gets back into bed on Noah’s far side, and motions for Dan to do the same. He takes a deep, clarifying breath, and slides back the covers to lie down. It feels good, and warm and safe, to be back in bed with him, to put his hand on Noah’s chest and feel it rise and fall with his strained breathing. 

He curls at Noah’s side and rubs his palm on his chest, looks over at Clare as she brushes her fingertips along Noah’s hairline. He stirs, restlessly, makes a weak, whimpering sound. Clare puts her hand on his bicep and rubs lightly up and down his arm. Dan kisses his shoulder, and he feels cool and clammy to his touch. Noah wakes up in increments, finally opens his eyes. He grimaces as the room comes into focus and turns, slowly, looks at Dan and then over at Clare.

“Fuck,” is the first, and only thing Noah says for a while.

“Babe, it’s ok, everything’s ok,” Clare starts to say, but he throws the covers off and practically sprints to the bathroom. Dan looks at Clare in alarm and she wrinkles her nose, knowingly. They hear the bathroom door slam shut.

“That went well!” Dan says, mortified again at how this morning is turning out, before rolling off the bed to look for his phone again.

Clare sighs. “Well, if there are going to be two of us, maybe we have a division of labor. How are you with vomit?”

Dan side-eyes her. “How would you _guess_ I am with vomit?” It comes out a little more sarcastic and biting than was probably necessary, but Clare knows what she’s getting herself into with him. He finally finds his phone between the mattress and the bedframe and flicks it open.

“Ok, fine, I’ll go in. Can you - ” Clare starts with a heavy sigh, dragging herself out of bed again and pulling her hair up into a ponytail.

“Yep, I’m already on Postmates,” Dan says, putting on his glasses, which he found wedged in the same spot in the bed. He looks up from his phone to confirm with Clare. “He likes the strawberry one or the blue one, right?” 

She nods and smiles at Dan. He doesn’t know what the fuck they’re doing, but Noah’s address is already in the app from the playoffs, and he can sure as hell do this one thing and order Noah some Pedialyte. He smiles back at Clare, and waves her off to the bathroom.

*

It’s a rough day. Noah gets sick a few more times before he can finally keep the Pedialyte down. They lie on the couch in various configurations and keep a baseball game on tv with the volume all the way down, until Noah falls asleep again. 

Dan goes home to shower and get some clean clothes, and checks in with his sister and his dog. Sarah sounds suspicious, and asks him if he’s doing ok, says he sounds a little _farblunget_. “Gesundheit,” Dan replies automatically. “And how is it you know more Yiddish than me? How is that fair?”

“You got the eyebrows, I got the ear for old timey languages. Thank god,” she says, and doesn’t ask any more nosy sister questions, though Dan can tell she’s dying to. “Don’t make a _shanda_!” Sarah says, cheerily signing off after assuring Dan of course Redmond can stay with her for a day or two. 

“Too late for that,” he says with a choke of a laugh in his throat, because he knows that one, and his sister has _no_ idea. Oy vey. 

*

Dan comes back with ginger ale and the best ever clear chicken wonton soup from their favorite Chinese place. 

Noah is much better, has taken a shower while Dan was out, and sits up from lying in Clare’s lap with grabby hands when he sees the bag Dan is carrying from Tao. Dan puts the food down and sits beside them, in the spot on the couch he’s pretty sure was left just for him. He sees Noah exchange a look with Clare and her give a brief hand signal that looks something like a _go on then_ , and then Noah is turning toward Dan and looking up at him so hopefully it makes Dan’s chest ache. 

He brings one hand to Noah’s neck, thumbs over his jaw where it hinges with his ear. “You’re not going to puke again?” Dan can’t help teasing, just to keep it light. 

Clare laughs beside them and Noah ducks his head, flushed pink now that he has color back in his cheeks. “Nope. I’m 100%. Ok I’m probably like 79%. But definitely done puking.”

“Hmmm,” Dan hums. “I’m probably only like 67%. But I’ll take those odds.” He leans down and kisses Noah, slow and soft, feels Noah’s hands come up to touch his face, tilt his head a little for a better angle. He’s not kissing him deeper, just more thoroughly, pressing his lips to every inch of Dan’s mouth, to his stubbled jaw and cheeks. 

Dan hears a quiet little hitch in Clare’s breath and opens his eyes, sits back for a moment. Her hand is clenched into Noah’s thigh and he turns to her, puts two fingers under her chin and tips her face up to kiss her. Just like Dan thought. 

“Did you like that?” Noah whispers at her lips and Dan feels himself go hot all over. “Babe you’ve seen us kiss like a hundred times,” Noah gently teases her as he pulls away and she shakes her head vehemently. 

“Nope. That wasn’t _you_.” She looks between both of them, and this feels like a moment, if ever there’s going to be one. 

Dan holds out his hand and Clare takes it, lets herself slide into Noah’s place as Dan pulls her into a kiss. She feels small, and very soft, and undoubtedly like a girl in his hands. She’s a nice kisser though, like Noah, but there’s no heat in it. She’s balanced on the couch on one knee, and puts one hand on Dan’s shoulder to steady herself there, kisses him back until Noah groans behind her, “oh my fucking god.” They both fall apart giggling. 

Noah looks flustered already, eyes wide, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. Clare settles comfortably back on his chest, pets him and smiles at Dan. They’re going to be alright, he thinks. 

“Now that we’ve got that out of the way…” Dan says smoothly and starts opening bags, taking out containers of soup. 

“Oh, we’re not done with that,” Clare says suggestively, waving her hand between the two of them. 

Dan holds his soup spoon and looks at her thoughtfully. “I’ll tell you a secret. Something I bet Noah hasn’t told you, because I don’t know if Noah even knew himself.”

Noah cocks his head, not knowing where Dan is going with this, and Clare sits up with piqued interest. Dan looks at Noah, softly, feels his smile in the corners of his eyes. “Sometimes? It was totally us.”


End file.
